Darkest Before the Dawn
by zodiacflame
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, Sam is left with an injury that isn't the kind which can be healed with a few days rest. Things look bleak for Sam, until help comes from an unexpected source. But how will the Winchesters cope when their plan backfires in the most bizarre of ways, leaving Sam... different. I don't own Supernatural, it belongs to CW (although I wish I did!)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this story, let me know if I should continue it **** It's my first time writing a supernatural fanfic, so please excuse me if the characters seem a bit off, I'm still trying to find my feet, so to speak XD As always, favourites, follows and reviews are much appreciated if you like the story, they let me know if it's going ok :) Oh and to the readers of my other story, I am working on a sequel; it should be up sometime in the near future ;) Well, that's it from me, hope you like the story!**

Chapter 1: Mistakes

Three hunters sat in a small motel room, its walls lined with tacky beige wallpaper and a stained carpet. Silence was draped across the room like a shroud, as the small family sat cleaning guns, preparing for the evening's hunt.

"Um…Dad…" Sam started, not quite sure how to word what he wanted to say.

"What?" came his father's gruff reply from the bed opposite. Dean looked anxiously between the pair; as if he was worried he may soon have to act as peacemaker between them, as he had many times before.

Sam took a deep, slow breath, before breaching a subject that couldn't be avoided. It was like the proverbial elephant in his and John's relationship, a subject that Sam had unsuccessfully tried to bring up many times before.

"It's- It's about college…" He began, slowly gaining in confidence. He couldn't stay silent any longer. "I've been offered a place by Stanford, and… I accepted."

John slowly put down his gun, his face hidden in shadows. Sam's heart sped up at the tension, fearful of his father s response. The silence was even worse than shouting; at least when John was shouting, Sam knew where he stood. But when it was silent, Sam had no idea what his father was thinking, and he hated not knowing. That was one of the reasons he drunk in knowledge greedily; he never wanted to be in a position in which he knew nothing.

After several minutes of silence, Dean decided to speak up. "Sammy…"

"No." His father interrupted, silencing his eldest son with a meaningful glare. Dean, as John knew he would, backed down without a fight.

"You aren't going to Stanford Sam. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop me!" Sam shouted, outraged. His father was always telling him what he could and couldn't do, and he was sick of it. He had never understood how Dean could just take the man's orders and say nothing. Did he not ever think that maybe their dad was wrong? That maybe he could actually be wrong for once? Was that really that difficult to imagine?

"I can and I will. You are not walking away from your family. We need you more than you think you need an education. How on earth will a degree from Stanford help you with hunting?"

"Did you ever stop to think maybe I don't want to be a hunter?" Sam yelled angrily.

"Sam…" Dean warned, knowing they were approaching a touchy subject; one which he knew would end with him being the one awkwardly trying to diffuse the tension.

"No Dean, I'm fed up of this. You always just agree with him, no questions asked. You'd probably shoot me if he told you to!" Sam shouted, but instantly regretted his words as his face filled with colour. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"Yes you did." Dean replied coldly. After all he had done for the his little brother, how could Sam even imagine that he'd ever hurt him? There was nothing Dean would place before his baby brother, not even their dad. Heck, he'd basically raised the kid! "I can't believe…" Dean growled, but was once again silenced by his father interrupting him.

"It doesn't matter. You're not going, that's final. How are we meant to keep you out of trouble if you're not with us? What if your next mistake ends with someone from that college dying?" John stated coldly, bluntly.

"Next-Next mistake?" Sam spluttered, infuriated. "What do you mean next mistake? There wasn't a last one!"

John seemed to falter slightly, as if questioning what he had just said, before strengthening his resolve. If hurting his son's feelings was what it took to make him stay, then so be it. "Yes, your next mistake. I have no doubt that you'll make one. Whether it's tomorrow, or in a year's time, it doesn't matter, but it will happen. It'll get someone killed, someone who would've lived if you just stayed with Dean and me!"

Even Dean was shocked at his father's words. He knew John wanted the kid to stay, but he had gone way too far. He was about to speak up, but was beaten to it by Sam.

"Is that what you think?" Sam asked quietly, the fight completely gone from him. Instead, his face was filled with sorrow, his puppy eyes almost pleading. Dean's heart broke at the sight of it. Yep, his dad had definitely gone way too far, and Dean was well and truly pissed.

"I... I've tried to be the son you wanted, to be more like Dean. But it just isn't me! Every day in training I try my best and yet it still isn't good enough, you still think I'll get someone hurt. I just can't take it anymore." Sam mumbled, his eyes glued to the ground as if he was scared to look at his family.

"Ah Sammy…" Dean started, taking a step towards his brother to comfort him. His heart shattered into even smaller pieces when his brother flinched.

"I should… I should go…" Sam whispered, stumbling backwards in a bid towards the door.

"Samuel. Stop right there." John said. He would not just stand there and let his son leave, not like this.

"Yes sir." Sam gave up any hopes of escape. If he couldn't leave, then he'd have to prove to his father that he wasn't a mistake. He'd try even harder than before to be the perfect son. If that meant no arguments and being the soldier John wanted, then so be it.

"I'm going to get some more rock salt. You better still be here when I get back. "John said coldly, before leaving the room. Sam turned away from his brother and slumped down onto the motel bed.

"Sammy," Dean started tentatively," He didn't mean it, he was just scared…"

Sam laughed humourlessly. "Dad- scared? No, he was right: I'm just a mistake waiting to happen."

"No you're not Sam! He just-"

"Dean, save it. I'm tired, I just want to sleep- please?" He pleaded quietly with a weak smile, before closing his eyes, making it evident that the conversation was over. But that didn't stop Dean from worrying about his baby brother.

SPN-

Sam pulled his thick jacket tighter around himself, trying to block out the cold winter air. It was seven in the evening, and it was time for the hunt to start. The first flakes of snow were beginning to drift down from the dark night's sky, the only light in the derelict room coming from the bright orb that hung in the inky blackness, surrounded by thousands of small lights. Frost had already covered the ground, giving the world a tint of white, a slight glow. It made the graveyard seem pure; ironic considering they were hunting a ghost. No doubt the frozen ground was making the digging difficult for Dean and John, and yet they showed no sign of complaint. They knew what needed to be done and they did it. No moaning, no whining, just silence as the two men worked, sweat glistening on their brows despite the briskness of the air. Sam looked on sadly from his spot in the abandoned building above. _Why can't I be more like them? _He thought miserably_. Why am I so different?_ He hadn't dared to say anything else about Stanford; the idea of going there had been firmly pushed aside. All that was left to do now was to let the college know he had changed his mind, that he wouldn't be coming after all. The thought pained him, but he couldn't risk getting someone hurt just so that he could have a couple years away from a job that he'd get dragged back into anyway. He might as well keep up the training and maybe one day he wouldn't be such a burden.

His father's earlier words had hurt him more than he was ever willing to let on. If only he could be more like Dean, maybe his father would like him more. Maybe he wouldn't see Sam as a mistake.

He pulled the gun closer to his body as his dad and Dean continued to dig up the grave below of the spirit that was supposedly murdering teenagers. Sam had been told to go to the second floor on the building that overlooked the graveyard, to keep watch for the spirit and warn his family if it appeared. It was unlikely that it would just stand by and watch its remains burn. But surprisingly, nothing happened as John threw a lighter onto the salted corpse, making it go up in flames. Sam watched on as Dean made his way into the building to find him. Instead of just standing uselessly waiting for his brother to find him, Sam began to walk towards the door before freezing suddenly. He had a bad feeling, which was justified when he felt the air get significantly colder. Sam panicked briefly, realising that the ghost was in the room with him, but his hunter instincts quickly kicked in as he raised his rock salt-filled gun. He almost shouted out to warn his brother, but thought better of it, believing that it would just make him look weak.

He saw the spirit flicker into view a few feet from where he was standing, its appearance shocking him. It was a boy, no older than himself, covered in scars and ugly blue bruises. One scar was particularly noticeable; it stretched across the spirit's face diagonally from his forehead to his chin. Sam almost felt pity for the spirit. As always, he'd been the one who'd had to do the research, and he couldn't help but relate to the spirit. The ghost was of a 16 year old teen, Brian Hendrick, who'd accidently gotten his younger brother hurt. He wasn't watching him when he was playing around a road, and before Brian knew it, a car had slammed into his baby brother's small form. The little boy survived with just a few broken bones, but their dad never forgave Brian. He brutally abused Brian, told him that it was his fault, that he was worthless; a mistake. He had twisted the poor teen's mind to the point where Brian actually felt he _deserved_ punishing. He died 2 years after his brother's accident, when his dad had one too many to drink and beat Brian to death. With a story like that, it was no wonder the teen's spirit had lingered on as a ghost, punishing those who felt they were a disappointment to their parents. Because of him, four teenagers had been murdered, and as sorry as Sam felt for the kid, it was time to put him to rest. He deserved peace after what had happened to him. Sam felt he kind of understood what it was like to not feel wanted, to feel like a disappointment. But Sam knew he had it nowhere near as bad as this kid had, so he thought himself lucky. It was cases like this that reminded him not all monsters were supernatural, that sometimes the ones that hurt you the most were the ones who were meant to care for you.

Sam was shaken out of his thoughts when the spirit materialised in front of him, but he paused for one fatal moment, feeling pity towards the twisted soul that stood before him. That minute pause was all it took. In seconds he felt himself flying through the air.

Dean walked into the room just in time to realise they'd burned the wrong corpse, and to see Sam flung out of the window and towards the pavement waiting below.

"Sammy!" He screamed as his baby brother disappeared from sight.


	2. Chapter 2: Aftermath

Chapter 2:

Dean wasn't even aware of flying down the stairs. He didn't notice his heart thumping as if it would break out of his chest at any minute. The only thought going through his head was _Oh god, please don't die Sammy, please don't die! _His mind was almost screaming it, repeating it like a mantra, as if saying it over and over would make it come true. Dean ran out into the cold night, and saw his brother lying limp on the frozen ground. John was already at the boy's side, shock evident on his face, but Dean ignored it. He sprinted over to his baby brother, helpless to do anything but look on as his father checked Sam's pulse. Dean fidgeted nervously as he waited for his dad to say something, anything.

"He's alive." John breathed with relief, but it was quickly replaced with fear when he saw how strange both of his son's ankles looked. Something was definitely broken, and his hip was already swelling. John had seen the way he landed on his feet, so frankly wasn't surprised. Didn't mean he was happy about it though, it would be absolute agony for Sam when he woke up. A panicked thought flitted across John's mind just before he was about to lift the boy up- What if he'd broken his spine? A fall like that definitely had the potential. Dean must have realised this too as his face had turned as pale as the snow that was steadily building up on the ground around them.

"Dean, call an ambulance." John ordered with a lack of emotion, despite it being so hard for him to stay calm at a time like this. But he had to, for Dean's sake.

Dean didn't move. He just stood there looking blankly at his little brother's unconscious body, no doubt running through various scenarios in his head, imagining what the future could hold for Sam.

"Dean!" John ordered again, louder this time. Dean flinched, but it seemed to shake him out of the shock he was slipping into. He fumbled in his pocket for the phone, and quickly punched in the digits for an ambulance. John, however, didn't hear a word of what was exchanged between his son and the operator as he tried to check Sam's injuries. From what he could tell, his ankles were both definitely broken, and his hip was possibly fractured. He had substantial bruising, but John didn't think any of the injuries were life threatening- a rare bit of luck. But what with it being as cold as it was, Sammy could develop hypothermia, which would definitely not make things any easier. Shrugging off his own jacket, he covered his lanky son in it as best as he could. It wasn't until then that he realised how tall his 18 year old son actually was; possibly even taller than himself.

"How did I miss that?" he murmured quietly to himself with sorrow. When had he stopped noticing his son and started seeing a soldier in his place?

"Dad, they're almost here, I can hear the sirens," Dean said shakily, interrupting his father's train of thought. John realised that he too could hear the wailing of the sirens, and released a trembling sigh of relief. At least Sammy had a chance.

-SPN-

Dean sat folded over on a chair in the waiting room of the ER. His head rested in his hands, his eyes blocked from view but the sobs he was trying to hide were given away by the tears that dripped steadily through the gaps in his fingers. He had been sitting like that pretty much since the moment they'd arrived, unwilling to face his father and admit that he'd messed up. If only he'd been faster getting to Sam at the graveyard, maybe the spirit wouldn't have hurt him. Instead of sitting in a hospital, the three men would be in the Impala, where they belonged, on the way to the next hunt, as it should be. But the freaking spirit had to mess everything up, and now his brother's fate was uncertain. John had disappeared soon after the doctor had carted off Sam to the operating room. No doubt he'd gone to burn the real corpse of the spirit, which needed doing, but Dean wished that just for once John would put his boys before the hunt. There were plenty of hunters John could've called to finish the job, but Dean had a feeling John had disappeared to get some sort of revenge on the thing that had landed his youngest in the hospital. He was slightly jealous, wishing he too could make the spirit pay for what it had done, but someone had to be there for Sammy, and it obviously wasn't going to be John.

Dean rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, as if trying to squeeze out the images that were flicking through his head. Of Sam falling, of him lying crumpled on the floor, legs twisted and pain etched onto his features. It didn't help one bit. He'd always been able to look after Sam before; he'd never experienced such a feeling of helplessness. Now here he was, with no idea if his brother was even alive_. Oh god…_ he thought, panic striking his heart. _He couldn't be… could he? Surely they would've said something if… if…._

Dean wasn't given any longer to dwell on it, as a voice suddenly called out: "Family of Samuel Winchester?"

He leapt out of his seat as if he'd been kicked, before finding his voice, saying "Me.-I'm- he's my brother." Standing in front of him was a middle-aged man with greying hair and frown lines, dressed smartly in a suit and holding a clipboard, with what was most likely Sam's medical notes.

"I'm Dr Turner. If you'd like to follow me…?" The doctor asked.

"Dean."

"If you'd like to follow me, Dean, I'll take you somewhere we can discuss your brother's condition." The doctor said, starting to walk towards a small room a short distance from the waiting area. Dean followed quickly. The sooner he knew what was wrong, the better.

The consultation room itself was very plain. Its yellow walls were dotted with posters about various illnesses, and three blue chairs were placed around a small coffee table in the centre of the room. Dean took the seat opposite where the doctor was now sitting, keen to find out how his brother was doing.

"Now Dean, your brother's condition is currently stable, and we're hopeful that it should stay that way, with a bit of luck." Dean grimaced slightly at that; Winchesters had a hell of a lot less than their fair share of luck, so he wasn't counting on it now.

"Upon his arrival at the hospital, we immediately took him through to x-ray and then surgery. As the paramedics suspected, both of his ankles are badly broken, as is his hip and his shoulder is sprained. I can only assume that your brother landed feet first, hence his injuries. Although it may not seem it, he was lucky. If he'd landed on his side he could have suffered severe internal bleeding, and landing on his head would have caused extreme brain damage, spine damage and would almost certainly be fatal." The doctor paused, looking grim, before continuing. "Now as I say, we took him to surgery and we were able to reposition his left ankle, but I'm afraid to say Samuel's-"

"Sam's." Dean interrupted out of habit, knowing his brother hated the name 'Samuel'.

The doctor looked slightly flustered, but carried on nonetheless. "Sorry-Sam's- right ankle is completely shattered. We have done all we can to piece it back together, but there is a risk of gangrene setting in, which would result in us having to amputate the foot to stop it spreading to the rest of the body. Either way, Sam's going to need a lot of physiotherapy and support to get back to the condition he was in before his fall."

Dean felt rather overwhelmed- and who could blame him? His brother could lose a foot! Any hope he'd had before of a few weeks in hospital recovering and then hitting the road again had completely disappeared. His brother was faced with a ton of pain and gruelling physiotherapy, and even then he may never be able to use his ankle properly again. _No_, Dean thought, _I have to stay positive. For Sammy._

"When can I see him?" Dean asked gruffly, his voice rough with unshed tears. What he wouldn't give for his father to be there…

"Well, Sam should be out of recovery and in a room by now, so if you just wait here and give me a moment to check on the system, I should be able to take you to see him very soon." Dr Turner replied, standing and walking towards the door.

"Thanks Doc," Dean said gratefully, as he heard the door click close. Finally alone, he let it all out, knowing that he soon wouldn't be able to. He had to be strong, for Sam's sake. Tears streamed down his face, but even then he felt relieved. Given the fall, Sam could have died, or have damaged his brain, so at least he could be thankful that when Sam woke up, it would be _his_ Sam.

Upon hearing footsteps approaching the room, Dean quickly wiped the tears from his eyes and sniffed, trying to stop his running nose.

"If you'd like to follow me, Dean, I'll take you to see your brother. " The doctor said from the doorway with a smile. Dean rose to his feet and swayed slightly, but steadied himself and a determined expression fixed itself on his face. Taking long strides, he followed the doctor along winding corridors, amazed at how large the hospital was. _It would be easy to get lost in a place like this,_ he thought as he walked.

After passing various rooms and wards, the pair eventually reached a room which was set slightly away from the other rooms; although Dean was relieved to notice they weren't in intensive care. Before entering the room, the doctor spun on his heel to face the 22 year old that was behind him. He was still shocked that the boys' father wasn't there, but kept his confusion to himself.

"Now, I have to tell you that you may find your brother's current state slightly shocking. He's on a ventilator to aid his breathing, but that will be taken out when he wakes up, which should hopefully be soon. He also had various tubes and wires on him to administer pain medication and antibiotics and to monitor his health. Sam also is in a cast from both his ankles to his hip, which will help all of the fractures heal. We've also had to set up a catheter whilst he's asleep, but once again, we'll remove that when he wakes up."

Dean grimaced slightly in sympathy for his baby brother. The doctor pushed the door open and gestured for Dean to enter. Even though Dr Turner had warned him of how Sam looked, Dean still felt slightly shocked. He'd never want to see his brother like this. He was so pale and still that he could be mistaken for dead. Dean took a shaky step forwards, before tossing aside his fears and dragging a nearby chair over to his baby brother's head. He gently stroked Sam's hair out of his eyes and murmured comfortingly to his brother. Sammy instinctively leaned into Dean's touch, and Dean smiled softly, as a lone tear escaped his control and rolled slowly down his face.

Dr Turner smiled at the sight before him, and then quietly exited the room. His patient was in safe hands.

**A/N: Happy new year! Thank you so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews- please keep them coming! Sorry it took me so long to update, what with Christmas and revising for my AS mocks I haven't had a chance to write, and it may be a few weeks until the next update because my mocks are starting in a few days. But please stick with me! Poor Sammy's in a bad way, and John's left Dean to pick up the pieces- what will happen when Sam wakes up? All will be revealed in the next update ;) See you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3: Hoo Doo

**A/N: Hey guys! Wow, it's seriously been a long time, and I'm very sorry about that, but I completely lost my inspiration and any sense of where this story is heading. And so, I've spent the past few weeks rethinking the direction for this story, and I hope you'll like where it's headed. The general future plot I had planned has now changed, but I think it's for the better. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, I promise to update much sooner than last time, and sorry in advance for the cliffhanger! (please don't hate me!) As always, follows and favourites are much appreciated, and reviews very literally make my day ;)**

Chapter 3: Hoo Doo

Dean never left Sam on his own. There was a bathroom in his little brother's room, so that area was covered, and either the nurses or his dad brought him food, so at least he wouldn't starve. The only thing he needed now was to see his brother open his eyes. Dean didn't care if Sam shouted at him, blamed him for what happened. He just needed him to do _something_, to stop lying there so still, so pale. It scared Dean how dead Sammy looked, as if all the life had left him. They'd had a couple of rough spots in the past days, like Sam running a fever, and the doctor wasn't sure he'd wake up anytime soon. But Dean would stay with his brother, waiting, for as long as it took.

His initial reunion with his father hadn't been a pretty one. He'd just been _so_ angry- who leaves their son almost dead at a hospital because they have "important stuff that needed doing"? What could be more important than your own child? Dean always followed John's orders, to the letter (much to Sam's annoyance), and he loved his father, but he was starting to feel that perhaps he didn't like him. _What I wouldn't give for Bobby to be here right now_, Dean mused. _He'd soon sort dad out. _Rubbing his eyes tiredly and yawning, Dean stood from the chair he had been settled in by Sammy's side for the past 5 hours._ Seriously though, where is dad? _Dean wondered.As if on cue, John chose that precise moment to enter the room, scaring the life out of Dean who must have jumped at least a foot into the air.

"Jesus, Dad! Warn a guy, would ya?" Dean complained as his heart gradually stopped hammering in his chest. After only the steady whirring of his brother's ventilator for hours, the sound of the door opening was like a gunshot to Dean. Once he got over his initial shock, Dean turned an accusing glare on his father. "Where have you been?"

"Don't take that tone with me. "

"Sorry, _Sir_," Dean replied, his tone implying he wasn't in the least bit sincere, but John decided to let that drop. The kid looked like exhaustion walking.

"Any change?" John asked, brushing over Dean's previous question.

"Nope. The kid seems determined to be determined to sleep as long as he can, keeping my blood pressure high in the process." Dean responded with a fond smile, but he couldn't keep the worry from his voice.

John sighed. He had feared as much. It left him no choice. Whilst Dean had been doing what he did best, looking out for his brother, John was doing what he did best: hunting. Or, more specifically, searching; searching for some way to heal his son. He hadn't wanted to go down the witch-craft route, as they could be slimy creatures at the best of times, especially when they thought they could get one over on a hunter, but with the state Sammy was in, he was quickly running out of options. It was either hoo doo or selling his soul, neither of which was a pleasant option. But it was his fault Sam was in this situation, and so he'd be damned if he was just going to turn his back on his youngest. So, as only a hunter could, he tracked down a witch. Of course, he'd done thorough checks first, to determine if the witch would actually stay true to her word, and from what he could tell, she seemed trustworthy- for a fee, or course.

Her name was Brianna Brookes. She lived a normal, apple- pie life, dabbling in witch craft on the side. And yet, she seemed to have a natural aptitude for it. John had approached the witch cautiously, and after explaining the situation, and giving her a monetary incentive, she had agreed to help, and was making her own way to the hospital. After explaining all of this to Dean, he waited for his son's disbelief- perhaps even anger, at his father's decisions. He wasn't prepared for Dean to agree, completely straight faced, no sign of discontent.

"If it helps Sammy, then we're doing it." Dean confirmed, a determined look in his eyes. And so, father and son sat by their youngest's bed, waiting for the witch to arrive.

-SPN-

It didn't take as long as John expected for Brianna to turn up, and she quickly set to work arranging her herbs and spell book, whilst John kept watch outside. He had no idea how he'd explain this away if a doctor turned up. Meanwhile, Dean kept vigil by his brother's bedside, gently stroking a thumb soothingly across the 18 year olds forehead. He turned his gaze to the witch.

"Are you ready yet?" He asked impatiently. He just wanted his brother back; preferably _before_ the hospital figured out their insurance was fake.

"Hold on, almost… There!" She said with a smile after lighting various candles, before taking a deep breath, closing her eyes and chanting in words Dean didn't understand. What he did understand was that he felt uneasy, but he shook it off; it was too late for doubt now.

The chanting continued, the air growing so heavy that Dean felt like he could take a scoop of it with his hand. All the candles suddenly went out, plunging the room into darkness. Fumbling towards the door, Dean switched the lights on, only to find that the witch and all of her possessions had vanished.  
"Son of a-" He cursed, as his father burst into the room.

"Where'd she go?" John asked urgently.

"No id-" Dean began, but was interrupted by gasping. Leaping forwards towards his brother, he slammed his hand down on the emergency call button before turning to Sam, trying his best to comfort him.

"Shh, Sammy, you're ok, you're in the hospital, you had a fall, but I need you to breathe," Dean instructed calmly, despite his inner turmoil. Sam was clawing at his throat, not understanding what was wrong. It broke Dean's heart to see him like that, so scared and confused.

"Sam, it's a ventilator, to help you breathe, don't fight it…" Dean soothed, as John paced behind him, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"For God's sake, where are the doctors?" John growled in frustration, but was soon silenced as the doors slammed open and medical staff swarmed in. Dean found himself being pushed out of the way as they tended to his brother. He hated that he couldn't do anything, but knew if he tried he'd only get in the way, so he settled for just reassuring his brother. His eyes never left Sam's.

-SPN-

After all of the commotion had calmed, Dr Turner confronted his patient's family, still slightly in shock from that day's events.

"I don't know what happened, but it's a miracle. One minute Sam was in a coma, the next he was fully awake. X-rays show that his hip and ankles- even the shattered one- are almost fully healed. I've never seen anything like it in my life, but frankly, it's outstanding. With your permission, I'd like to do further tests, to see-"

"No." Dean all but growled.

"B-But the benefits-"The doctor spluttered, utterly confused. Why wouldn't they want to help other patients?

"My brother is not some test subject." Dean glared in a way which allowed for no argument.

"I'd like the release papers." John interjected. The old doctor gawped at this.

"But he's only just-"

"You said it yourself: he's almost healed, and so I want to take my son home to recover fully. And, as I believe, you have no grounds upon which to detain him." John argued, and Dr Turner knew he was right. So, much to his disbelief, he found himself walking numbly to the front desk to retrieve the papers to allow Samuel to leave.

4 hours later, the Winchesters were back on the road on the way South Dakota, with a very groggy Sam. _Pain meds always did get to him_, Dean thought to himself as he looked at his brother spread out unconscious on the Impala's back seats. The car was unusually silent, as he didn't want to risk waking his brother with his usual music. He still couldn't quite believe that only the day before had his brother been far from the living, with possibly no chance of return. So far, nothing seemed particularly off, and they'd almost forgotten about Brianna's sudden disappearance. Almost. As it was, John found himself wondering what happened to her as he drove in front of the Impala in his 4x4, but what with his family's history of bad luck, he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. He tried to put the incident out of his mind, but it wasn't to be. Swearing as he saw the Impala pull off to the side of the road, he quickly did the same, before jumping out of the car. He sprinted over to his old car, various scenarios running through his head, all the while cursing the witch, and himself for trusting her.

"Dean!" He shouted. "What's wrong?"

Dean's only response was to turn towards his father, all the blood drained from his face and unable to speak. Striding forward, fearing the worst, what he saw left him dumbstruck. Lying on the backseat where his son should be… was a wolf.


	4. Chapter 4: Confusion

Chapter 4: Confusion

"Dean, get back." John ordered, in a way which demanded no argument. He slowly stalked closer to the sleeping wolf, pulling his gun out of his waistband as he did so. That damned witch, he thought angrily, grinding his teeth. She stole his son, replaced him with this… thing… and she was going to pay. First the wolf, and then he'd find her. She'd soon realise that double crossing a Winchester was the worst mistake she ever made.

"Wait, Dad no!" Dean shouted, panicked as he went to grab his father's arm. "You can't shoot him!"

"It's not your brother Dean, it's a monster. It needs to be put down." John replied coldly, aiming the gun at the beast on the seat.

"But it is! I saw him change in front of my eyes- that witch, she did something to him!" Dean argued desperately. He couldn't just stand by as his father murdered his baby brother. But when his dad's only response was to continue to take aim, Dean reached for his own gun, and surprised both of them by pointing it at his father as he jumped in between him and the car.

"Stand down, Dean." John growled, without taking his eyes off of the creature.

"If you want to shoot Sam, you'll have to kill me first." Dean said, a determined glint in his eyes. John wasn't expecting that. Not only was his eldest defying him- a very rare occurrence- he seemed to have no qualms about doing it. It shook John slightly in his reserve, but he still refused to lower his gun. That thing was dangerous.

"Dean, move!" John yelled at his son.

"No." Dean responded coolly, refusing to move an inch. John would not hurt Sam, not whilst he was still standing. It was just at that moment that the wolf on the seat behind him began to stir. It rose it's head, blinking groggily, before releasing a huge toothy yawn. When it saw the gun, it yelped and scrambled back as far as the seat would allow, confusion and betrayal burning in its hazel eyes before looking down, defeated. It seemed to be then that the wolf noticed its own paws, and it once again yelped and looked itself up and down. If it wasn't a life or death situation, Dean thought, it might have actually been quite funny.

"Dad look at him, that's Sammy. He didn't even realise what he is! That's my little brother you're pointing your gun at, and I swear to God, if you don't lower it-" Dean didn't have to finish; his father was already slowly lowering the gun, a look of utter shock on his face.

"Sam?" He asked questioningly. The wolf- Sam- crept forward, tail tucked between his legs and belly scraping the seat submissively, fearful of what his father's reaction would be. He was definitely not expecting his Dad to spin away from him and stride back towards his 4x4, saying over his shoulder to Dean, "Get back into the Impala, I'll meet you at Bobby's, as planned. Don't let that thing escape."

Dean stared at his father's quickly retreating form, dumbfounded. The wolf was so obviously Sam, and yet he was still treating him with contempt. Did he not even care how his youngest might be feeling? Dean was seriously beginning to get the urge to punch his father. _Couldn't hurt_, he thought, _might knock a small bit of idiocy out of him to make some room for common sense! The sooner we get to Bobby's the better._ Slowly turning towards his brother, he wasn't quite sure what to say. '_Good Boy'_? No, Sam would definitely kill him for that one, something he didn't want to risk when his brother was armed with deadly teeth and claws. '_Don't pee on my_ _baby'_? Nope, that would definitely get a massive bitchface, which Dean was certain Sam could still pull, even if he was a wolf. _In fact, he could probably pull it even better now_, he thought with a smirk.

"Um, Sam?" Dean asked, even though he was still not quite sure what else to say. Sam perked his ears up at the sound of his name, but still looked as depressed as ever. "Er, well, I guess we'd better get going. Don't worry; I'm sure Bobby can fix this." Dean reassured, and not just for Sam's benefit.

-SPN-

Sam's life officially sucked. First he has a fight with his dad- although that's pretty normal. Then a ghost gets one over on him (Dean would definitely make fun of him for that, when this was all over) and the next thing he knows, he's waking up in the Impala as a freaking wolf! No normal person should ever experience any of that, much less all of it! Dean had told him that he'd spent a week in hospital, with a broken- well, everything really. He was going to be pretty much crippled. Then cue the kindly witch with her funny smelling herbs and weird words. But said kindly witch ended up being not so kindly, and yes, whilst she had healed him and everything seemed perfect, except from her sudden disappearance, she'd also…changed him. A change Sam was most definitely not happy with.

He sat on the back seat of the Impala, head resting on his paws with his tail- which was beyond weird- wrapped around him comfortingly. It was definitely a strange sensation, waking up with a whole new limb, one he had very little control over. He just prayed that in time he'd get the hang of using it. Sam's mind kept going over and over the incident with his dad. He couldn't believe how his father reacted, how even when he knew who Sam was, he still kept his gun aimed at him. Although, when he thought about it, he didn't really blame him. He hadn't exactly been the son of the year recently, not like Dean. First he'd wanted to leave the 'Family Business', and had then fought over it. Not only that, but he messed up on a hunt. Again. It was no wonder he wanted to get rid of him. Sam's heart panged with sadness, but one glance at Dean, who was driving whilst drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music, lessened the feeling slightly. Dean had stood by him, shielded him from their father. Dean's faith in him made Sam's tail thump slightly in happiness, causing his brother to look over to him in the rear-view mirror.

"You ok there Sammy-Boy?" Dean asked, not entirely sure what he was expecting in response. Sam woofed lowly, raising his head slightly and allowing his tail to gently move up and down a few times. Dean took this as a sign of content, and asked no more. 2 hours after the 'change', and he still had no clue what to say to his brother. He knew he should just talk to him normally, but things were just so awkward. How do you talk to someone who can't talk back? Dean couldn't believe that only a day ago he'd been praying to be able to talk to his brother again, and now he could, he had no idea what to say. It seemed like some cruel trick of fate, having Sammy so close and yet still being separated, in a sense.

Suddenly Sam sat up in the seat, eyes wide, which looked rather comical on a wolf. Nature was calling, so to speak. He whined to his brother, embarrassed, and attempted scratching at the door, which wasn't exactly easy in a moving car.

"Hey, Sammy! If you scratch up my car I'm turning you into a fur rug…" Dean warned, a dark look in his eyes when he heard the scratching. However, one glance at his little brother soon had him cursing. "I swear to God, Sam, you dare pee in my car…" Sam gave him probably the best bitchface Dean had ever seen, and that was saying something. Pulling over as soon as he could, he jumped out of the car and opened the door for Sam, who quickly jumped out and ran out of sight to do his business. Jesus, Sam, Dean thought, this is not going to be fun. He just prayed that his brother wouldn't get lost, as that would be typical Winchester luck. He needn't have worried though, as Sam quickly came trotting back from behind a bush. As Sam came towards him, Dean couldn't help but notice how, well, magnificent his brother looked as a wolf (in a completely non-creepy way- they were brothers, for crying out loud!). He had long thick fur, with variations of brown and black, amd a the dark tipped tail, as if it had been dipped into a bucket of black dye. Sam had kept his signature hazel eyes, and if anything, they were even more stunning on a wolf his colour, not something you'd usually see. Dean couldn't believe he was analysing the way his brother now looked, but it was hard not to when the kid you'd known for years was suddenly a wolf.

"Prude." Dean sniggered when Sam reached him, causing the wolf to flash look that seemed to be saying 'Bite me!'

"Somebody's a bit grouchy!" He joked, trying to diffuse some of the lingering tension. Sam, on the other hand, decided he couldn't be bothered with his brother's messed up sense of humour and so sauntered past, tail and head held high in the air, as he jumped gracefully into the car. Well, it would have been graceful, if he hadn't landed face first. Trying to recover his composure was quite difficult when his brother was rolling on the floor laughing, so Sam settled with jumping over onto the front passenger seat- his seat- and pointing his muzzle upwards in an act of indifference. Dean, however, was too absorbed in his laughter to even notice his brother's change of seating at first, let alone his attempts at being the bigger person- or wolf, as it was.

When Dean did finally notice that Sam had gotten over his initial nervousness and rejoined him where he belonged, by Dean's side, he couldn't stop the small smile escaping. His brother still trusted him, despite all of his unspoken fears. And, all things considering, that made today pretty good.

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed the update! Felt like I kinda owed it to you guys after not updating for so long XD But I feel like I've finally got my inspiration back, so hopefully updates should be coming at least weekly from now on- plus I love writing Wolf Sam. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed the previous chapter, and the ones before it, it means a lot :) Please keep it up! Like I say, it really does inspire me to keep writing (so that could mean faster updates for you too!) Anyway, see you next time ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Highway of Hell

Sam moaned in agony. He clamped his paws to the sides of his head, squeezing as if that would somehow stop the horrible sensation, but to no avail. The pain had been going on for at least the last hour, and as a wolf (a fact which still left him reeling), it was impossible to vocalise to his brother the discomfort he was currently in. Not that he needed to of course. Dean, being the keen observer he was after years of hunting, had already noticed, and yet he did nothing to stop the pain his brother was going through. If anything, he just sung louder. It wasn't that Dean wasn't a good singer, rather that now Sam was a wolf, his hearing was much better than before, which was not very good when Dean had been singing the same song, on repeat, in a small cramped space for _four hours_. Sam couldn't understand how even his brother wasn't sick of the song yet- surely no one could still like a song after singing it for that long? For the first three hours, Sam had managed to maintain a low level of sanity, kind of, but now it was just getting ridiculous. He needed out of the stuffy Impala, as soon as possible. _Maybe I could 'convince' Dean to pull over,_ Sam thought, _and then sabotage the radio._ He pondered the idea for a moment before shaking his head in disapproval. _No, that would never work, Dean would just leave my sorry ass on the side of the road for daring to harm his baby. _Sam had no option but to put up with it for the 200 miles they still had left to travel to Bobby's.

Sam couldn't wait to get there- and not just to end the torture he was currently in. He was desperate for a cure, to be human again, and yet, as a wolf, he didn't feel so… heavy. Not physically of course, but some of the things which had bothered him before didn't seem to upset him as much now. So Dean was better at hunting, so what? Sam was better at researching. He assumed that was the wolf part of his brain. In a pack, each wolf had their own role, so to compare them would be pointless. But somehow, Sam wasn't sure he'd still see things the same way when he finally managed to turn back. And even the wolf's mind couldn't quell the anxious feeling he got when he thought of his father, his stomach knotting. The way John had looked at him was so full of… disgust. To John, Sam was a monster who needed exterminating. He wasn't his Sammy anymore, and it scared Sam how quickly John seemed to forget that the wolf was still his son. But at the same time, Sam was kind of grateful for it. At least he'd finally had his fears and doubts confirmed, and had a better idea of where he stood. He'd always suspected John liked his brother more, a constant fear niggling at the back of his mind like a parasite, but he'd always pushed the feelings away, until they went cold and settled deep down, like a volcano. And, like a volcano, there was no way of getting rid of them once they appeared. All they did was grow. Sam was pretty sure he had a lot of them knocking around in his mind, from all the hunts he'd messed up on, such as from his "sloppy gun skills", as his father would say. For now he managed to safely slam the lid down on the volcanoes to stop them from getting out of hand, but he had a bad feeling that one day, the lid would break and he would snap.

-SPN-

Dean glanced over to his little brother, who was clearly deep in thought. Sammy always had a kind of frown which knotted his eyebrows together when he was stressing about something, a knot which was now creasing his forehead as he stared at his paws, after giving up on trying to block out the sound. _Yeah, that was a little cruel_, Dean thought, _but I was only trying to keep things light_. He knew that everything would be piling up in Sam's mind, and being the genius he was, Sam hated it when he couldn't make sense of them. So knowing him, he was sitting there, examining each feeling and memory, and categorising them in his mind, like a robot, so they could be easily accessed when needed. Dean knew it was his way of coping with all the shit that happened to them, but he couldn't help but hate the way his brother took on that vacant look and shut down. It wasn't healthy, to bottle everything up inside, especially when he probably didn't even realise he was doing it. But though Dean could tell his brother was doing it, he had no way of helping. Despite his many years of Sammy-watching, he had yet to find a way to break past the walls of steel his brother had put up around his mind a long time ago. Frowning slightly, he knew he needed to do something. He couldn't just sit there feeling so utterly useless. So, choosing a song he knew his brother secretly liked, he began shouting out the lyrics, with little tone but full of emotion, drumming out the guitar solo on his steering wheel.

"_Carry on my wayward son, there'll be piece when you are done, lay your weary head to re-e-e-est, __**don't you cry no more**_!" Dean sang out at the top of his lungs, glancing sideways at Sam, who had sat up from his previously moping position with his head tilted on one side questioningly. Dean hated to admit it, but he looked adorable right then. Wolf Sam took the puppy dog eyes to a whole new level.

"C'mon Sammy-boy, you know it's your favourite!" He said enticingly.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Sam couldn't help but laugh a bit at his brother's antics. He knew Dean was just trying to cheer him up, and to be honest, it was kind of working. So, throwing back his head, pretending as if he hadn't a care in the world, Sam began to howl in tune with the song, quietly at first but quickly growing in confidence.

Dean shot a surprised glance towards his brother, before a grin erupted on his face. And so the pair continued on their way, singing joyfully as they went. Despite all of the differences that had forced them apart, they always found a way of coming back together. After all, that's what brothers do.

-SPN-

It had been a long drive, but they finally found themselves standing in Singer's Salvage Yard, looking up at the house which, like its owner, had seen better days. Not that anyone would ever say that to Bobby's face of course, in fear of being shot. But despite the old man's gruff exterior, inside he was as soft as they come, especially on matters concerning the two youngest Winchesters. Despite this, Sam couldn't help but knead the ground with his front paws anxiously with his tail drooping miserably between his legs, as they waited for Bobby to appear. John had got there first, to explain the situation to Bobby, to try and minimise the shock in fear that the old man would have a heart attack. What with all the beer he drank, it was a genuine possibility after all.

Dean automatically let his arm hang down at his side, fingertips grazing his younger brother's fur comfortingly. Even when his brother was a wolf, Dean could tell the clear signs that his brother was nervous, and so instinctively he tried to help in the best way he could. He was surprised however when Sam seemed to lean into his touch, as if trying to draw support from his brother's hand. It was like going back ten years for Dean, before his little brother went through the 'rebellious stage' where he hated all that "mushy stuff". Although Dean had to admit, that was probably partly his fault, what with his "no chick flick moments" rule. But that rule was no longer valid when it came to reassurance and comfort, which in his opinion, was what family was all about.

Dean was distracted from his thoughts when Sam's head suddenly shot up from its previously hanging position, ears alert and nose twitching slightly. And, less than a minute later, Dean heard what Sammy was picking up on for himself, as footsteps approached and the porch door swung open, to reveal Bobby looking exactly the same as usual, with his ratty baseball cap on his head and bear bottle in hand. He seemed to almost take a step back when he saw Sam, as if from disbelief. Dean flinched slightly at the error of movement, and prayed that his brother hadn't noticed, knowing it would make him feel even more nervous. But Bobby quickly righted himself, and took several long, purposeful strides forwards towards where the boys were standing, before embracing Dean in a strong embrace, which the younger man quickly returned. Then turning towards the youngest Winchester, Bobby knelt on one knee and smiled, softly saying "Hi Sam", eyes full of wonder. That was all it took to reassure Sam, who slowly crawled forward, ears flat against his head and tail waving slowly from side to side ever so gently. Dean couldn't help but grin. Of course, Bobby always had been a dog person.

Bobby couldn't help but stare into the wolf's- Sam's- eyes in wonder. They were exactly the same hazel eyes he always had, and yet as a wolf, they seemed so much more pronounced, regal even. They were such a striking colour for a wolf. In fact, Bobby would wager that you'd never find that colour on a wild wolf. Sure, you'd get brown, amber, and maybe a few hazels, but not this hazel. Not with streaks of amber through pools of blue, outlined by a bold dark line and framed with the black eyelids of a wolf. Sam had long, silky fur lining his head, draping down gracefully, composed of strands of beige, brown and black. Bobby couldn't resist the urge to pet the large creature standing in front of him, monetarily forgetting it was Sam, to whom he'd never be so touchy feely with. Sure, he gave bear hugs away freely and would frequently ruffle Sam's long hair teasingly, but that was different to the more comforting contact of simply resting a hand on the boy's shoulder or brushing his hair out of his eyes. That was more Dean's kind of thing. And yet, he couldn't help but reach out a hand to the boy, to which Sam responded eagerly by taking a step forward, pressing his head into the older man's hand. He was determined to prove that despite his exterior, he was still the Sammy Bobby had looked after for years.

A small smile of wonder lit up the old man's face as he turned towards Dean, his hand automatically massaging the wolf's head. "We'd better get inside then boy. I'm sure Sam doesn't want to stay in the form you and your idgit of a father got him stuck in forever" Bobby said gruffly, at which Sam woofed affirmatively. So, standing back up, the two men and the wolf made their way back into the house, where said idgit was waiting.

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long, I've just had a lot on my plate recently. Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows, please keep them coming, it really means a lot and I love getting the notifications! ^^ hope you enjoyed the chapter, another slow one but slightly longer than the last. It should start picking up in the next chapter, which I should hopefully have written in the next couple of weeks. See you then! ;) **


	6. Chapter 6: Of Mice and Men

Chapter 6: Of Mice and Men

Dean groaned in utter boredom. He couldn't imagine anything worse than sitting in a dark, stuffy room surrounded by piles and piles of ancient books, half of which weren't even in English. And yet that was where he was, much to his dismay. He'd much rather have been hunting a poltergeist, or even a wendigo, despite the fact that he pretty much always ended up injured on one of those hunts. But he'd still prefer that over sitting in a room feeling useless. Sure, he wanted to help his little brother, more than he could ever express, but he just wished there could be a more practical, hands-on approach- i.e. hunting down the witch who'd done this and ask her to reverse it. And by "ask" he meant 'force', by any means necessary, the bloodier the better. His lips tugged upwards in one corner at the thought, the thought of getting revenge on the bitch that had dared to hurt his brother. Granted, she had healed him before turning him into a wolf, but that still didn't earn her any favours with Dean.

Dean was still lost in thought when he suddenly heard a shout. Jumping up to run towards the sound, he instantly regretted it when he whacked his head against the corner of the shelf above him, a shelf which until just a moment ago he had completely forgotten. Trying to massage away the pain in his head with one hand, he staggered forwards until he reached where he'd last seen Bobby. And sure enough, the old hunter was still in the exact same spot, albeit looking a lot more triumphant as he held a book in the air.

Dean whistled, impressed. "Remind me never to get into a fight with you, muscles- that book must weigh a ton!"

Bobby scowled at the younger man, but before he could make a remark he was cut off.

"What is it, Bobby?" John questioned, praying that it was good news.

"Well I don't know for sure, I still need to do a bit more reading, but I may have found a cure- but don't get your hopes up- the ingredients will take a good while to collect if all is as it seems."

"Come on Bobby, out with it. How do we get Sammy back to normal?" Dean pressed, his previous pain forgotten with the adrenaline that the prospect of a cure had given him.

Bobby snapped "Gimme a chance boy!" before continuing. "To get him back will need a complicated spell, one that asks for all sorts of whacko stuff. The hair of a demon, tooth of a Black dog, as well ash from the cremated remains of a poltergeist, amongst herbs which can easily be found- I probably have a few of them in my supplies. But the spell itself can only be performed before the end of the lunar cycle in which the curse was placed, meaning we only have 5 days. "

Dean grinned. "Great! All we need to do is collect these ingredients, and we'll be good to go!"

"I don't think it will be quite that easy, son." John mused, eyebrow raised.

"true, but at least it's something. Come on, we better get gathering! Who's gonna go after what?" Dean prompted, looking to his father for instructions.

"Assuming the spell has no bad effects, we should probably split up. That would be the fastest way to collect the ingredients. Bobby should probably go after the demon, seeing as he is the expert on them."

Bobby muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes "fantastic."

"I'll go after the Black dog, and you and Sammy can go after the poltergeist- I don't want the boy staying here on his own and the ghost should be the safest."

And the mention of another ghost, Dean's previously gleaming eyes went cold. "No. I'm not letting Sam anywhere near a ghost after what happened last time. I know he can look after himself, but I won't risk it. I can't. You go after the ghost, leave the black dog to me, I've hunted them before, I can do it again. Plus Sam will be a big help, what with his new found senses."

John looked ready to protest, but soon stopped when he noticed the rebellious glint in his eldest's eyes. His oldest son didn't often go against his orders, but when he did John knew there was no point fighting him. The boy would do anything when it came to protecting his little brother, even if it meant defying the father he respected.

"Fine." He sighed, not happy, but also slightly agreeing with his son. He didn't want Sam near the thing that had got them into this mess any more than Dean did.

"That settles it, then." Dean grinned, the gleam once again returned to his eyes. "I'll go let Sam know."

Bobby gave a slight nod, before becoming reabsorbed into the text he had been reading, searching for any more information on the possible cure, as Dean left the room, grateful for the excuse to leave the thick air of the room behind as he headed to where he had last seen his little brother.

-SPN-

Meanwhile, Sam was practising controlling his new body. He found he was getting pretty good at it, if he did say so himself. He took deep breaths in through his nose as he gripped the earth with his claws. Tensing and releasing muscles, he pawed the ground, feeling the loose dirt slip between the pads on his paws as he slowly took a step forward towards his quarry. He kept his body low to the ground as he crept silently through the long grass of the salvage yard, preparing to pounce on his unsuspecting victim as soon as he got close enough.

-SPN-

"Sam!" Dean called, frowning as he searched for his brother, having found neither hide nor hair of him so far. But before he knew it, he was on the ground, a large, furry lump on his back.

Sam panted proudly as he pinned his brother, for very possibly the first time in his life. Perhaps being a wolf wasn't _all_ bad after all.

"Get off, bitch!" Dean growled, straining to push the weight off of himself but to no avail.

_Jerk_, Sam growled back, before grudgingly obliging, jumping off of his brother, tail still wagging as he flopped down into a seating position lazily, his head tilted to one side questioningly. _You called?_ He asked, despite knowing Dean couldn't understand him.

"We may have found a cure…" Dean started, noting how Sam's ears suddenly perked right up, before continuing: "But it needs certain ingredients, ones that call for a hunt."

Sam seemed to frown in confusion, so Dean clarified. "It needs three things, as well as a bunch of herbs: hair of a demon, remains of a poltergeist and tooth of a black dog- don't even ask me how that will taste, but I can promise you it won't be good." Sam grimaced at the thought of the torture his taste buds had coming. He lifted his muzzle slightly, indicating for Dean to continue. They were quickly getting the hang of this communicating thing.

"And so, we've been tasked with ganking a black dog- and before you ask, I've already found one, two hours drive from here. But you better get a move on Sammy-boy, we only have 5 days to get you back to normal. So, if you haven't got any plans, fancy getting your wolfy behind in the car already?"

Sam glared at his brother, pushing against him just enough to make the 22 year old lose his balance and fall over, before trotting over to the Impala victoriously.

"Bitch!" Came Dean's growled response from the ground behind Sam, a response which Sam decided to ignore. That is, until he remembered he didn't have opposable thumbs and had to wait for his brother to open his door, a task which Dean took joy in doing as slowly as possible.

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long! I've had a lot of bad things happening recently and have only really just started to get over them, so I apologise for the ridiculously long wait. Seeing as I'm on holiday with not much to do, I thought I'd give this story a long overdue update. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, even if it was a bit shorter than usual. The name for this chapter came from Robert Burn's poem 'To a Mouse'- read into it what you will, I'll leave it for you to decide what it means ;) Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows, they really mean a lot so please keep them coming! Until next time guys ;) **

"**But Mousie, thou art no thy lane **_[you aren't alone]_

**In proving foresight may be vain:**

**The best laid schemes o' mice and men**

**Gang aft a-gley **_[often go awry]_

**An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain **

**For promised joy."**

_Robert Burns_


	7. Chapter 7: Sherlock Bones

Chapter 7: Sherlock Bones

Sam was spread out on the back seat of the Impala, wolf limbs flopped lazily in all directions as he'd fallen asleep waiting for his brother. Being a wolf had seriously messed with his sense of time, meaning that to him, as little as five minutes felt as long as an hour. Wolves didn't use the concept of time in the same way in which humans did; they just lived for now, not caring what would be happening in the future. It was a nice concept, but was one which the human part of Sam couldn't get used to. After years and years of timekeeping, of punctuality, it was difficult not to get frustrated at the seemingly immeasurable thing that was time to a wolf. He hadn't realised how big a role the concept of time played in the human life until it was gone, typical of all things in life. Whilst thinking such philosophical thoughts, Sam's wolf brain got rather bored, hence the now sleeping Sam. A sleeping Sam whom Dean took great pleasure in taking a photo of. He knew that a photo like that could be very useful in the future. Dean quietly climbed into the car, before turning the volume of the radio as loud as it could go and turning it on. Needless to say, that woke Sam up very quickly. So quickly in fact, that he jumped straight up into the air, smacking his head on the roof of the Impala. Turning his large shaggy head towards his brother, he instantly activated his bitchface, trying to make his brother quiver in fear but of course only making him laugh even more than he already was.

Groggy as he was, Sam quickly jumped into the front seat next to his brother, never dropping his glare. He was hoping that it would at least stop him laughing a bit, which Dean did, but Sam doubted it was because of his stare. Dean then whipped out a paper bag, and Sam tilted his head inquisitively, sniffing the air for any tell tale smells, and disappointed when he did not in fact smell bacon or beef. They were both things which he had never really been overly keen of as a human, but as a wolf his appreciation for them had sky rocketed. Just the thought of them was enough to make his tail thump in happiness and his mouth salivate. But what he smelled was definitely not meaty, more… dry and tasteless, a scent Sam didn't know quite how to make out. He didn't have to wait long though, as Dean quickly put an end to his mounting curiosity by pulling out a leather lead and collar. Sam growled slightly, looking between his brother and the objects in question, highly offended by the notion that he, a former human with all his brains still intact (those that hadn't been destroyed by his brother's singing of course), needed a lead to be told what to do.

Dean had seen this coming from a mile off, quickly looping the collar around his brother's neck before he had the chance to protest properly. "Now before you go getting your fur in a twist, let me explain. I'm gonna need to ask around before we hunt down old blackie, and you can't exactly pass as an FBI agent, and so, I've come up with a brilliant plan." Dean explained, looking rather proud of himself. Sam wasn't convinced, instead raising an eyebrow mockingly, as if to say, "Really Dean, you and brilliant plan don't exactly go well in a sentence."

Getting a general gist of what his younger brother was thinking, Dean quickly sent a scowl his way, before continuing nonchalantly. "Yes Sam, believe it or not, I am capable of thinking now and then. I just choose not to 'cos it gets in the way of me being awesome." Sam snorted at that, shaking his head in disbelief of his brother's big-headedness. "Anyhow, my plan is to pretend you're like a crime dog, sniffer dog, whatever- you know, like that Sherlock Bones thing we saw when we were kids- I could even get you a hat to match!"

Noticing his brother's most disapproving look, Dean continued: "So, for you to look the part, you need a collar 'cos you can't exactly walk around without one; it's me who'd get the fine! Besides, at least with a collar and lead on we have a chance of convincing people you aren't a wolf, just a massive wolf-dog hybrid, completely not dangerous." Sam curled his lips at that, showing the weaponry he had available, but Dean wasn't impressed, instead teasing "See, what a soft wittle pussy cat you are!"

Sam huffed, knowing it was pointless to try to show his brother how wrong he was, and so switched his attention to the bit of leather which was currently feeling way too tight. He was pretty sure they weren't meant to feel quite that bad, so he whined, trying to scratch at his throat. Getting the message, Dean leaned forwards to loosen the collar by a few holes, only to find that even on the last hole it still wasn't as loose as Sam would have liked, despite the collar being the largest that they stocked.

"Well what can I say Sammy, I think this proves that you do have a big head!"

-SPN-

"So Mam, what did you say this creature looked like?" Agent Smith asked the young woman, who was sending nervous glances at the very wolf- looking dog that was accompanying the FBI agent.

"Er-"She hesitated, before continuing: "It was massive, looked like a wolf but more the size of a rhino, and built like one too. But it had thick black fur, black as coal, didn't even catch the light, but its eyes…" she trailed off.

"Go on." Dean prompted.

The women seemed to think for a moment, her face growing pale, as she responded: "they were bright red like blood, but yet… dark, as if they shone with- I don't know- evil." The woman blushed, embarrassed of what she was describing, knowing she sounded like a crazy person. Heck, just a day ago she herself would have said whoever came up with that description should be institutionalised, and yet, here she was. But that was what she saw. She couldn't explain it, but it was the truth. And it terrified her.

Sam, sensing her fear as it radiated off her in waves, the air thick with the scent adrenaline which was seeping from her pores as her heart raced, did what all good dogs would do and tried to comfort her. Stepping forwards, he nudged her hand with his nose, rubbing his head on it in a soothing gesture. The woman was taken slightly aback at first, after all, this dog wasn't all that different to the thing she'd seen in size and shape, but his stunning hazel eyes gleamed with intelligence and kindness. She couldn't help but like the dog. Dropping to one knee, she proceeded to return the gesture, rubbing in small circles on the dog's head, causing his tail to thump on the ground. She smiled up at the agent.

"What's his name?" She asked.

"Sam." Dean replied with a smirk, which confused the woman so she decided to ignore it. _You old dog, you!_ Dean thought with a smile.

Sensing his brother's thoughts, Sam sent a small glare in his brother's direction, before returning his attention to the women, eyes once again going soft.

Smothering the laugh that was threatening to make itself heard, Dean coughed politely before asking "I'm sorry Mam, but is there anything else you can tell me? Even the smallest of details could help."

She was slightly surprised that he seemed to believe her, but was certain it must have only been to pacify her. "I'm afraid there isn't. It was very shocking, seeing Jim be… be…" The women couldn't continue, lowering her face as tears slipped from her eyes as Jim's killing was playing in front of her eyes yet again. But before she knew it, the tears were gone as Sam nudged her face gently, reassuringly. She laughed quietly, barely audible, before hugging the dog one last time and then standing.

"If that's all agent, I have things to take care of." She said bluntly, wanting to put as much distance between herself and the haunting memories as possible.

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry I've kept you so long." He responded smoothly. Years of observing people taught Dean that she wasn't lying; she truly did not have any more information to give, so he didn't want to upset her. With a brisk nod and one last pet of Sam, the woman strode purposefully away.

"Jeez Sam, never realised you were into that sort of thing. Looks like you got yourself a girlfriend!" With a small growl which said "Bite me!" Sam turned away from his brother, intending to trot maturely away, but completely forgetting the whole lead thing- until he was yanked back by it of course, eyes widened in surprise.

Dean grinned. "Ah ah Sammy, follow your master like a good dog, can't have you misbehaving now, can we?"

Sam sighed in defeat, before resigning himself to pacing along by Dean's side.

"Good dog!" Dean praised, then quickly changing the subject before Sam could bite him. "Anyway, this creature. I think we can be sure after that description that it is a Black dog, only problem we have now is tracking it and working out how to get its tooth- aren't they meant to be like ghosts?"

Sam nodded affirmatively. Even though the lore was hazy on Black Dogs, one thing the different accounts often had in common was that the dogs were nearly always described as being ghostly, therefore not of solid form. That would definitely cause some problems in harvesting a tooth to be ground up and put in a potion.

"Ah well," Dean said, "I guess we'll just have to figure that out when it comes to it- after all, that's what we always do and it generally works."

-SPN-

Once the boys had returned to the Impala, they made their way to the nearest motel to prepare for the hunt: Sunny Days Inn- which was most definitely _not_ sunny. Even by their standards, this motel could hardly pass for habitable. Wallpaper was coming off the walls in clumps, floors stained with god knew what. There were the bare necessities- two beds (Sam insisted on still having his own- he was not sleeping on the floor like Dean suggested), a mini fridge, bathroom and a kitchen, if you could call it that, what with its mini fridge and two stove oven, along with a grubby looking sink. Very definitely not homely, but it was all they could afford with their limited supply of money. Plus they were too tired to bother looking further; they weren't planning on staying there long.

Sam was flopped on the bead, dozing. It felt nice, being on a hunt with just his brother, not having to worry about impressing his dad. What his father didn't seem to get was that Sam wasn't trying to escape hunting by going to college- he actually kind of enjoyed hunting things and saving people. Instead, it was the constant feeling of inadequacy that followed him on the hunts which he was trying to leave behind, what with his always being compared to other people who were better than him, mainly his brother. It wasn't Dean's fault at all, that's just the way it was and Sam didn't blame him- it wasn't like Dean was arrogant because of it. If anything, Dean always seemed to try to play down his achievements as if to make Sam feel better, something which Sam hated. He didn't want his brother to feel like that; he wanted him to be proud of himself. It all went back to the way their father treated them. Sam didn't hate his dad, but he just didn't agree with him. He only wanted to go to college to feel like he was actually good at something. Facts, figures; they all came naturally to him, but shooting skills? Tracking? Those were Dean's things, and Sam just wished his father would accept that and move on.

"Hey, Sammy?" Sam looked up as Dean spoke tentatively. "I know I haven't really said it, but you know I'm here if you need to, well not talk at the moment of course, but if you just need… if you'd like…" Sam silenced Dean's flustered words by placing a paw on his brother's arm, eyes smiling softly. _I know_, he thought, _you're here for me._

**A/N: A bit of a faster update to make up for you all having to go so long without one. Thank you to the new followers, they're much appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was more of a filler to set things up for the next one, in which things will get a bit more action-y hopefully XD Anyway, please leave a review to let me know what you think, and as always, please follow and favourite if you are enjoying the story so far, it really means a lot to me. Until next time ;) **


	8. Chapter 8: Gang aft a-gley

Chapter 8: Gang aft a-gley

"C'mon Sammy, we better get this over with." Dean grimly remarked, grabbing his gun from the trunk of the Impala and slamming the lid shut. Despite the hours of research the previous night, they were still no clearer on how to kill the creature, a fact Dean was very grumpy about. Going on the accounts of the Dog being a spirit, Dean made sure to grab some salt rounds as well as his usual bullets. He also sheathed a silver knife and a machete on his belt, for extra precaution. He even brought some holy water in a flask, just in case. He had hunted Black Dogs in the past, but they usually didn't go down the same way. Some were affected by silver, but others weren't. It was very much a guessing game. But they couldn't put off tracking the thing any longer, so they had headed for the last place it was sighted: Black Falls Forest.

Sam could sense his brother's uneasiness, so stood firmly at his side, putting himself under Dean's hand so that it rested limply on the scruff of his neck, in an attempt to reassure him that he wasn't alone. Although Sam had a feeling that that wasn't the problem- if anything Dean would probably preferred to have been on his own. The last hunt they had been on together had ended up with Sam in hospital, so it wasn't surprising that Dean wasn't in a hurry to put his brother in danger again. It went against all of the instincts that had been drilled into him since he was little: _Look after Sammy._ In Dean's eyes, that was his sole purpose, but to Sam his brother meant so much more. He just wished Dean could see himself the way Sam saw him. The perfect brother, a man without sin, who would go to any lengths to keep those he loved safe. He was smart, just as smart as Sam, if not more so, and strong. He could be stubborn at times- make that all the time- but that was a trait all three Winchesters shared. Sam couldn't help but feel sad at the opportunities Dean had been deprived of. If he hadn't had their father forcing him to be a brother and dad to Sam all at once, as well as being the perfect son and hunter, Dean may have had the time to find something he wanted to do, not what he was told he had to like. Sam felt slightly guilty, even though he knew Dean would disprove greatly. He couldn't help but feel it had been his fault somehow. If only he wasn't around, things could have been different for Dean; he would have had less responsibilities. But that didn't mean their father would have gone any easier on him, so Sam tried his best to shake off the feeling. Instead, he set his eyes on the hunt ahead. He would not give Dean more cause to worry. Maybe for once, he could be the strong one.

With a glance down at his brother, a smile tugged at Dean's lips before it was replaced with a determined frown, as the pair stepped forwards into the shadows of the forest.

-SPN-

Dean groaned as he was slammed into the trunk of a tall oak, his back bruised from repeated abuse. They had found the Black Dog, but from there on all their plans had gone to hell. Bullets, both salt and the usual didn't work, and neither did silver. It just went straight through the beast as if it was made of air. He couldn't work out why the methods he had used in the past on its supposed brethren didn't work, but all he could assume was that Black Dogs could be from different subspecies, which were killed differently. The creature, however, was very definitely not made of air when it threw Dean skywards, backwards, sideways- basically, Dean now knew why humans weren't made to fly. It hurt. Granted, all of his landings consisted of crashing into things, and he hadn't wanted to take off in the first place, and he had no way of actually flying. Sam hadn't been spared either. It seemed despite being able to track the thing down, he still hadn't quite got used to his new body, and so wasn't fast enough or agile enough to land any blows. Instead, it was the Black Dog that was doing all the beatings, alternating between the two hunters. And now it was Dean's turn. Prowling forward, the beast snarled, its claws churning up the mud beneath them. It raised a paw of sharp daggers as it reached the man, prepared to end his life there and then for daring to enter his territory. One slice across the chest was all it would take. But unbeknownst to the creature, Sam was shakily pulling himself to his feet behind it. Everything ached, and he was covered in a variety of cuts which oozed blood as his head pounded angrily, but he was alive, so he wouldn't give up fighting. He shook his head side to side, in an attempt to dispel the grogginess which clouded his vision, making his head swim and his body sway. But that was before he saw his brother cornered by the beast, about to be killed, and he lost it. A red mist descended over his vision as he bounded forward, emitting a snarl far too loud for a simple wolf. But Sam was not a simple wolf. Earlier pains forgotten, he was determined to make the beast pay.

Dean stared wide eyed as Sam leapt onto the creature's back, sinking his teeth into its shoulder, all the way down to the bone. The Black Dog howled in agony. It writhed around, and bucked up and down in an attempt to get the wolf off of its back- an attempt that worked. Sam was flung viciously against a nearby tree.

"Sam!" Dean cried gutturally, trying to stand to go to his brother's aid, but he hadn't notice the debris of branches that pinned his legs to the ground. He couldn't shift the weight no matter how hard he struggled, and so all he could do was watch as his brother was slaughtered.

But it wasn't over. Sam refused to abandon his brother. He knew that if he was to give up, he'd be giving up on Dean's life too. Even if his death meant that Dean managed to escape from the beast, Sam knew Dean would forever blame himself, something Sam would never want. It was for that reason that he stood, despite every fibre of his body telling him no, that he'd had enough. He had to keep fighting, no matter what. And so he stood, lowered his head and glared at the beast walking towards him, snarling and snapping his jaws. Taking a step of his own forwards, that step soon turned into a run as Sam darted towards the creature. He may have been smaller, but he was faster. He ran circles around the Dog, nipping and scratching at whatever he came into contact with before darting away again. The Dog spun, trying to catch the wolf off guard, but was almost always too slow. It managed to get in a fair few slices of its own, but it wasn't long before the Dog could no longer even get close. Sam stood nearby panting, his body trembling with anger. This thing had dared to harm his brother, to try to separate them, but that was something nothing, no matter how powerful it was, would ever be able to do. They would always find a way back together. And that was why Sam found himself standing guard in front of his brother, who was alternating between watching the fight in awe and trying to get the debris off his legs. Sam growled, warning the beast not to come any closer.

If the creature had even a gram of brain cells, it would have been able to tell that the wolf would not give up. The Dog was in too bad a state to keep fighting, and yet it too would not give up. If it was smart, it would have fled whilst it still had its life. But a fight like this was a duel to the death, and the Dog refused to have survived centuries only to be brought down by a creature such as the one that stood before him covered in blood. And so, it once again stepped forwards, slowly at first, then suddenly fast, catching the wolf off guard and slicing a chunk out of its back.

Sam howled as white pain laced his spine, consuming all thoughts, but instinct drove him forwards. The instinct to protect was far stronger than any pain the Dog could inflict, and so Sam leaped at the beast, claws splayed as they sunk deep into its flesh. Similar to the start of their fight, the creature bucked to dislodge the wolf, but this time it failed. Sam dug his claws even deeper, using them like hooks to keep his hold on the creature. Timing it carefully, he released his hold and fell to the ground onto all fours. His ears were flat back against his head, tail alert, held straight in the air as he looked every part the pissed wolf who you definitely would not want to be on the bad side of. He snarled and threw himself at the creature yet again, this time gripping its muzzle in his teeth and scratching at its throat with powerful legs armed with deadly daggers. Finding it hard for his claws to get through the creature's shaggy scruff, Sam once again backed off to strategise.

He emitted a low, guttural growl warning the creature off as he stood shaking with a combination of adrenaline and exhaustion. His back throbbed in agony, and it took every ounce of will power to ignore it and the countless other wounds he had gained, particularly on his newly healed legs. If he was going to do something, it would have to be soon, otherwise he feared he would not be able to continue- and that was not an option. Taking the small time he had before the creature resumed its attack, Sam looked it over, trying to work out the best plan of action. The thing was huge, bigger than a grizzly even, with the power to match. The wolf part of him told him to go for the throat, a classic wolf killing technique, but he feared that would not work in this situation. The Black Dog had a thick mane of scruffy black hairs which were matted together around its neck, almost impenetrable. It would take a lot of time and effort to break through it to the weak spot beneath, time and effort of which Sam did not possess. He couldn't hesitate much longer though, and so would have to rely on the plan which was slowly forming in his mind, and hope that he had enough of it figured out in time.

Sam kept his body low to the ground, as he crawled forward. He feinted towards its throat, as the creature released an outraged roar whilst swinging its mighty paw towards the wolf. Changing direction as fast he could, he instead ducked under the Black Dog's shaggy stomach, and bit into it, clawing with all his might as he latched on to it, back paws still on the ground as support whilst his front paws sliced at its abdomen. He shook his head back and forth, as the metallic tang of blood began to fill his mouth. The creature howled in pain, swinging its jaws round and locking them round Sam's already injured back and flinging him away. Sam hit a tree and went limp, as Dean cried out as if it was him who had been hit.

"Bastard!" He snarled at the creature in pure rage, as a surge of adrenaline allowed him to push the remaining debris off his legs. He picked up his knife which had fallen nearby in a blood splattered pile of leaves, and he jumped towards the beast, yelling. He sliced at the nearest part: its' already fatally injured stomach. Slicing from one side to the other, an already gruesome wound became worse, as blood gushed from it and the creature yowled, before collapsing to the ground dead in a shuddering heap. Dean was shocked. His knife hadn't worked earlier, so why now? The only theory he could come up with was that as Sam had already opened a wound in the creature, it gave the knife an entry point. But he did not waste time thinking about it, as he raced towards his brother as fast as his weak, injured legs could carry him. He dropped to his knees at Sam's side, shaking his brother in an attempt to wake him, but was mindful of his injuries. Sam roused groggily momentarily, but he was very groggy, presumably he'd hit his head on a tree. Dean prayed that it wasn't serious, but wasn't counting on a response. If there was such thing as guardian angels, he figured theirs was doing a pretty shitty job. Swearing constantly under his breath, like a hushed mantra, he fumbled through his rucksack which had been thrown some distance, not liking leaving Sam for any time on his own, but he had no other choice as he searched for the first aid kit. Closing his fist around it, he shouted out victoriously, before rushing back to his brother. Turning the wolf over gently, he assessed the damage to his back. There were four long gashes across the middle section from the creature's vicious swing, as well as puncture wounds from its dagger-like teeth. Dean swore once more, before taking a deep breath to try to still the shaking which had taken over his hands. Although the wounds hadn't gone deep enough as to touch the spinal cord, they were still pretty deep, and would definitely need to be sewn to stop the bleeding, something which Dean needed full control over his hands to do. Taking a few more breaths to focus, he threaded the needle and pushed the skin on either side of one of Sam's deep gashes together, as he began to sew. Sam moaned slightly from within his varying degrees of consciousness, as the repetitive pain of the needle flitted through his senses, although he was not awake quite enough to feel it properly.

"I'm so sorry Sammy, this is all my fault." Dean murmured as a tear slipped out of one eye. Angrily wiping it away, he continued sewing. "I promise you, I will save you."

No longer sure whether he was talking about the wounds or Sam's current form, he decided silence was the best route. His fingers moved automatically as he continued to sew the remaining wounds, before deciding that he had done the best he could for a field operation. Hopefully the other cuts and scratches could wait until they reached Bobby's. Turning to pick Sam up, Dean froze, as he remembered the whole reason for this disaster. Spinning on the spot to face the beast, he watched with morbid fascination as its body melted down slowly, flesh dripping off of bones until the skeleton too disappeared. Soon nothing was left except a gleaming tooth. Dean didn't have time to wonder why only the tooth was left, as if it knew what they were after. Despite the suspicious circumstances, Dean pocketed the tooth quickly, as he turned back to his brother. He heaved Sam's large frame onto his shoulders, wincing as his little brother groaned in pain, before trudging onwards through the forest on the long journey back to the Impala.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter, it was quite difficult for me to write as I'm bad at action stuff, but hopefully it was ok XD Thank you to lenail125 for your review, and also to the people who favourited and followed this story. I don't want to be one of those demanding authors, but I haven't had many reviews recently. Is this because people aren't enjoying the story, or just that they don't have time? I don't mind, I'm sometimes guilty of reading-and-running myself, but I'd like to know so I can try to fix anything you don't like. Feedback is always appreciated, as it helps me to get better at writing :) Now onto my dilemma: I have two possible ways this story could go, one would mean it ends in a couple of chapters, and the other would see it go on for a bit longer. So, my lovely readers, the decision is up to you. Would you prefer a few more chapters, or even more? Let me know in a review! :) Until next time ;) **


	9. Chapter 9: Homeward Bound

Chapter 9: Homeward Bound

Lugging a full grown, 170 pound wolf through the woods was not Dean's idea of fun. Panting as he tried to readjust his grip as his brother began to slip yet again, he muttered a string of curses.

"'Bout time you were waking up now Sammy boy, to carry your own heavy arse back to the car! When we get back I'm seriously cutting your food intake…" Silence was his only response. "Great," he said with a roll of the eyes, "now the squirrels will think I'm crazy, talking to myself- this is all your fault, ya know that, you big oaf? If you hadn't decided to play the hero, protecting your stupid ass big brother- emphasis on the big! I'm the older brother Sam, me! I should be the one protecting you, not the other way round! And now, cos of me…" He sighed. "Cos of me, you're hurt and I'm stumbling through a freaking massive forest talking to myself- I'm serious though, time to lay off the peanut butter and banana sandwiches…" Grunting, Dean ploughed on. Despite his moaning and growing irritancy as he tripped over yet another tree root, he would not abandon his brother. Sam hadn't abandoned him when things were starting to look grim, and Dean would save him regardless. It's what brothers are for.

The trees loomed menacingly overhead, seeming to grow darker with every step taken. Every shadow seemed to mock him, as he trudged onwards to his seemingly unreachable goal. Grunting and spitting out curses, Dean would have looked at sight if anyone was to see him covered in mud and blood, hair plastered to his head. His eyes burned with thunder, but whether from fear or anger –well, it was probably a mixture of the two. Fear for the life of his brother, hoping with every ounce of his being that his little brother would survive, and anger. Anger at the Black Dog, the treacherous conditions- heck, by this point, Dean was even cursing the squirrels watching from their trees. To this day, he would still swear that they were laughing at him. He didn't blame them though, not really. He probably would've laughed himself if this situation was happening to anyone other than himself and his little brother. But it wasn't, and so all he could do was grin and bear it, or at the very least just bear it, as a grin was becoming less and less likely with every step he took.

When they finally reached the car, it was like a light in the darkness for Dean. Literally.

"Crap, crap crap…" Dean cursed as he not-so-carefully placed his brother on the ground. "No, no. no. Who left the light on? The battery's gonna be flat!" This seriously could not have happened at a worse time, Dean thought, racing to the car; pains and exhaustion were momentarily forgotten. After all, he couldn't exactly get someone to give him a jumpstart when they were stuck in the middle of God knows where. Swearing under his breath, Dean rummaged through the trunk of the car, praying to whatever he thought could save him, whether it be God or Lucifer, he didn't really care. The way he saw it, whoever was looking out for their family was doing a pretty crap job, so it probably wouldn't make a difference at all. Surprisingly though this time, someone was on their side.

"Yes!" Dean exclaimed, holding their saviour in the air, an old car battery. "Please let this work…" he mumbled as he swapped the batteries over. "C'mon baby, C'mon…" He encouraged softly, like a mother to a child, his facing lighting up as the Impala responded with a gentle purr, gradually growing stronger as the engine got going. Satisfied that the car would last long enough to get them home, he turned off the car, this time triple checking the lights were off, before turning back to his brother as he began to pull him towards the car. Shaking with exhaustion, his arms finally gave out just as he reached the car, sliding down the door in a heap of sweat, panting heavily. But the boys were safe. They were with the Impala. They were home. A small smile flitted across Dean's face, despite the circumstances, as he slowly lowered a hand into Sam's thick fur (trying to ignore the clumps of dried blood that made his stomach clench in anger at the reminder of his failure). Even unconscious, Sam recognised the comfort of his brother and leaned into the touch.

"We've almost made it Sammy, not far now. I just… need to catch my… breath for a minute…" Dean wheezed softly, as he felt his eyes droop closed, before darkness stole his vision.

Now, Dean never really appreciated being woken up. The best way to do it was to get up naturally, of your own free will when you're fully rested. There's nothing worse than an alarm going off, even if you were getting up anyway, as it means you're no longer getting up because you want to, but because you have to. There had been many instances which led to Dean insisting on his sleep, including pain-in-the-ass little brothers climbing into his bed after the five year old had a nightmare. Or was upset. Or just wanted food. Food which, Dean was ashamed to say, he could not always supply. And so over the years, he found it best to feign sleep, for even that was better than having to refuse his baby brother anything. Sure, maybe Dad was right, maybe he did spoil the kid- but someone had to and John definitely wouldn't. So, like many of John's parenting duties, the job fell to him, to make his brother feel loved. However, that in no way made him appreciate rude awakenings. Such as a wet nose in the face.

Prying his eyes open, Dean squinted at the blinding dappled sunshine, blocked in part by a large, shaggy shape. Grumbling his distaste, Dean went to turn away from the annoyance and drift back to sleep, until he felt the rustling of leaves under his clenched fist. No longer tired, Dean remembered where he was as his previously groggy mind tried to piece together recent events. Eyes widening as his head finally caught up to the present, he turned his head sharply to the side, fast enough to cause whiplash. And there, sitting albeit a little hunched up, was a fully wolfed out Sammy, smiling gently with his eyes, wagging his tail slowly side to side. Dean grinned as he realised what this must mean, that his brother was on the mend. Although, he was quickly reminded that 'on the mend' by no understanding means 'better', as Sam sagged forwards, what little energy he had possessed seemingly taken out of him from as simple a task as waking his snoozing brother. Dean moved swiftly to his sibling's side, helping to take his weight as he aided him in walking the few steps to the car. It was time they left this hell hole as far behind as possible.

The cool metal of the car handle was reassuring as he pulled open the door, before lifting his brother onto the front seat as carefully as possible. Not careful enough though, it seemed, as Sam whined quietly in pain as his back was moved ever so slightly. Dean knew that any acknowledgement of pain meant that it was pretty bad, although Sam did his best not to let on as he stubbornly attempted to sniff Dean over for injuries across the seat. In what can only be described as a frown, as strange as it looked on a wolf, Sam gently pulled back a part of Dean's sleeve with the tip of his teeth, as careful as if dealing with a new-born child. Growling in displeasure at the deep scratches littered over his brother's arm, he glared at Dean for not tending to himself as well as Sam. At least Dean had the graces to look a little sheepish.

"Hey, don't look at me like that, Scooby, I kinda had other things on my mind- and don't even try to pretend for one second you'd be any different!" It was then Sam's turn to look sheepish as he saw the truth in Dean's logic, but would refuse to admit so to his brother. Dean grinned, as he carefully cuffed the wolf over the head, mindful of his current state.

"C'mon big guy, let's get back to civilisation- I can't wait to get me a burger!"

Sam pointedly stared at Dean's stomach, whom the owner of which indignantly exclaimed-"I am not fat! I'll have you know, I'm the healthiest man for miles!" Sam was not impressed by his joke. You're the only man around for miles, he thought dryly, as Dean puffed out his chest and flexed his muscles, disappointed when it did absolutely nothing to impress his little brother.

"Really Sam?" he questioned, "You used to worship the ground I walked on- what happened to that little pipsqueak? Now look at you, walking all over me- literally!" as Sam rolled his head onto his brother's lap, stretching out on the front seat in an attempt to relieve the cramps of his abused back.

"Let's get going then…" Dean murmured as Sam drifted off on his lap, putting the car into drive as he took them closer to escaping the hell hole that was the forest. And closer to his burger.

**A/N: *waves white flag* please don't kill me! I'm sorry I've been gone so long, had a lot happening in my personal life so haven't been able to write Feel terrible for leaving you all hanging on that last chapter, so finally managed to get something down for you (those who are still interested in the story at least, I wouldn't blame you if you'd given up on it!) Hopefully though you're all still with me, hope you enjoyed the chapter, sorry it was so short but it was quite a struggle to write. Hopefully, life permitting, I'll get another chapter out to you in the next week or so but I have exams and portfolios to focus on first I'm afraid. But anyway, if you've decided you aren't gonna kill me, then I'd love to hear your thoughts on the chapter! And thank you to those who continued to read, favourite and follow the story despite the long period of inactivity. Thank you for putting up with me ^^**


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